Adventures of Bindle

  CHAPTER I

  THE COMING OF THE LODGER

  Bang! Even Bindle was startled by the emphasis with which Mrs.Bindle placed upon the supper-table a large pie-dish containinga savoury-smelling stew.

  "Anythink wrong?" he enquired solicitously, gazing at Mrs. Bindleover the top of the evening paper.

  "Wrong!" she cried. "Is there anything right?"

  "Well, there's beer, an' Beatty, an' the boys wot's fightin'," beganBindle suggestively.

  "Don't talk to me!" Mrs. Bindle banged a plate of stew in front ofBindle, to which he applied himself earnestly.

  For some minutes the only sound was that occasioned by Bindle'senjoyment of his supper, as he proceeded to read the newspaper proppedup in front of him.

  "You're nice company, aren't you?" cried Mrs. Bindle, making a divewith the spoon at a potato, which she transferred to her plate. "Imight be on a desert island for all the company you are."

  Bindle gazed at Mrs. Bindle over the small bone from which he wasdetaching the last vestiges of nutriment by means of his teeth. Hereplaced the bone on the edge of his plate in silence.

  "You think of nothing but your stomach," Mrs. Bindle continuedangrily. "Look at you now!"

  "Well, now, ain't you funny!" remarked Bindle, as he replaced hisglass upon the table. "If I'm chatty, you say, ''Old your tongue!' IfI ain't chatty, you ask why I ain't a-makin' love to you."

  After a moment's silence he continued meditatively: "I kept rabbits,silkworms, an' a special kind o' performin' flea, an' I seemed to getto understand 'em all; but women--well, you may search me!" and hepushed his plate from him as a sign of repletion.

  Mrs. Bindle rose from the table. Bindle watched her curiously; it wasnever wise to enquire what course was to follow.

  "I answered an advertisement to-day," she announced, as she banged anapple-pie on the table.

  With difficulty Bindle withdrew his interest from the pie to Mrs.Bindle's statement.

  "You don't say so," he remarked pleasantly.

  "And about time, I should think, with food going up as it is," shecontinued, as she hacked out a large V-shaped piece of pie-crust whichshe transferred to a plate, and proceeded to dab apple beside it.

  Bindle regarded her uncomprehendingly.

  "In _The Gospel Sentinel_." She vouchsafed the information grudginglyand, rising, she fetched a paper from the dresser and threw it down infront of Bindle, indicating a particular part of the page with avicious stab of her fore-finger.

  Bindle picked up the paper. The spot indicated was the column headed"Wanted." He read:

  "CHRISTIAN HOME wanted by a single gentleman, chapel-goer, temperance, quiet, musical, home-comforts, good-cooking, moderate terms. References given and required. Apply Lonely, c/o _The Gospel Sentinel_."

  Bindle looked up from the paper at Mrs. Bindle.

  "Well?" she challenged.

  He turned once more to the paper and re-read the advertisement withgreat deliberation, forgetful of his fast-cooling plate.

  "Well," remarked Bindle judicially, "this is a Christian 'ome rightenough, plenty of soap an' water, with an 'ymn or two thrown in so asyou won't notice the smell. Cookin's good likewise, an' as for'ome-comforts, if we ain't got 'em, who 'as? There's sweepin' an'scrubbin' an' mats everywhere, mustn't smoke in the parlour unless you'appen to be the chimney, and of course there's you, the biggest'ome-comfort of all. Yes! Mrs. B.," he concluded, shaking his headwith gloomy conviction, "we got enough 'ome comforts to start acolony, I'm always trippin' over 'em."

  "Eat your pie," snapped Mrs. Bindle, "perhaps it'll stop your mouth."

  Bindle applied himself to the apple-pie with obvious relish, glancingfrom time to time at _The Gospel Sentinel_.

  "Well?" demanded Mrs. Bindle once more.

  "I was jest wonderin'," said Bindle.

  "What about?"

  "I was jest wonderin'," continued Bindle, "why we want a lodger, uslike two love-birds a-singin' an' a-cooin' all day long."

  "What about the housekeeping?" demanded Mrs. Bindle aggressively.

  "The 'ousekeepin'?" enquired Bindle innocently.

  "Yes, the housekeeping," repeated Mrs. Bindle with rising wrath, as ifBindle were directly responsible, "the housekeeping, I said, and foodgoing up like--like----"

  "'Ell," suggested Bindle helpfully.

  "How am I to make both ends meet?" she demanded.

  "I suppose they must meet?" he enquired tentatively.

  "Don't be a fool, Bindle!" was the response.

  "I ain't goin' to be a fool with that there lodger 'angin' about,"retorted Bindle. "If 'e starts a-playin' about wi' my 'Ome Comfort,'e'll find 'is jaw closed for alterations. I'm a desperate fellerwhere my 'eart's concerned. There was poor 'ole 'Orace only the otherday. Jest back from the front 'e was."

  Bindle paused and shook his head mournfully.

  "Horace who?" demanded Mrs. Bindle.

  "'Orace Gaze," replied Bindle. "Nice cove too, 'e is.

  "''Ullo! 'Orace,' I calls out, when I see 'im jest a-comin' from thestation with all 'is kit.

  "'Cheerio,' says 'e.

  "'The missis'll be glad to see you,' I says.

  "'She don't know I'm 'ere yet,' 'e says.

  "'Didn't you send 'er a telegram?' I asks.

  "'Telegram!' says 'e, 'not 'arf.'

  "'Why not?'

  "'Lord! ain't you a mug, Joe!' says 'e; 'you don't catch me a-trustin'women, I got my own way, I 'ave,' says 'e, mysterious like.

  "'What is it?' I asks 'im.

  "'Well, I goes 'ome,' says 'e, ''er thinkin' me at the front, rattlesmy key in the front door, then I nips round to the back, an' catchesthe blighter every time!'"

  "I won't listen to your disgusting stories," said Mrs. Bindle angrily.

  "Disgustin'?" said Bindle incredulously.

  "You've a lewd mind, Bindle."

  "Well, well!" remarked Bindle, "it's somethink to 'ave a mind at all,it's about the only thing they don't tax as war profits."

  "You'll have to be careful when the lodger comes." There was a note ofgrim warning in Mrs. Bindle's voice.

  "Lodgers ain't to be trusted," said Bindle oracularly. "If you expects'em to pinch your money-box, orf they goes with your missis; an' ifyou're 'opin' it'll be your missis, blowed if they don't pouch thecanary. No!" he concluded with conviction, "lodgers ain't to bedepended on."

  "That's right, go on; but you're not hurting me," snapped Mrs. Bindle,rising to clear away. "You always oppose me, perhaps you'll tell mehow I'm to feed you on your wages." She stood, her hands on her hips,looking down upon Bindle with challenge in her eye.

  "My wages! why, I'm gettin'----"

  "Never mind what you're getting," interrupted Mrs. Bindle. "You eatall you get and more, and you know it. Look at the price of food, andme waiting in queues half the day to get it for you. You're not worthit," she concluded with conviction.

  "I ain't, Mrs. B.," replied Bindle good-humouredly, "I ain't worth'alf the love wot women 'ave 'ad for me."

  Mrs. Bindle sniffed. "You always was fond of your food," shecontinued, as if reluctant to let slip a topic so incontrovertible.

  "I was, Mrs. B.," agreed Bindle; "an' wot is more I probably alwaysshall be as long as you go on cookin' it. Wot I shall do when you goorf with the lodger, I don't know," and Bindle wagged his head fromside to side in utter despondency.

  Mrs. Bindle made an unprovoked attack upon the kitchen fire.

  "Well," said Bindle after a pause, "if it's rations or a lodger, Isuppose it's got to be a lodger," and he drew a deep sigh ofresignation. He turned once more to _The Gospel Sentinel_. "Musical,too, ain't 'e," he continued. "I wonder wot 'e plays, the jews' 'arpor a drum? Seems a rare sport 'e does, chapel-goer, temperance, quiet,musical, fond of 'ome-comforts, good cookin'; an' don't want to paymuch; regular blood I should call 'im."

  "He's coming to-night to see the place," Mrs. Bindle announced, "anddon't you go and make me feel ashamed. You'd better keep out of theroom."

/>   "'Ow could you!" cried Bindle reproachfully, as he proceeded to lighthis pipe. "Me----"

  "Don't do that!" snapped Mrs. Bindle.

  Bindle regarded her over the flaming match with eyebrows raisedinterrogatingly.

  "Perhaps he doesn't smoke," she explained.

  "But I ain't goin' to give up tobacco," said Bindle with decision."'Oly Angels! me with a wife an a lodger an' no pipe!"

  He looked about him as if in search of sympathy. Then turning to Mrs.Bindle, he demanded:

  "You mean to say I got to give up smokin' for a lodger!" Indignationhad smoothed out the wrinkles round his eyes and stilled thetwitchings at the corners of his mouth.

  "It doesn't matter after he's here," Mrs. Bindle responded sagely.

  Slowly the set-expression vanished from Bindle's face; the wrinklesand twitches returned, and he breathed a sigh of elaborate relief.

  "Mrs. B.," he said admiringly, "you 'aven't lived for nineteen yearswith your awful wedded 'usband, lovin', 'onourin' an' obeyin' 'im--Idon't think--without learnin' a thing or two." He winked knowingly.

  "Yes," he continued, apparently addressing a fly upon the ceiling,"we'll catch our lodger first an' smoke 'im afterwards, all of whichis good business. Funny 'ow religion never seems to make you toosimple to----"

  Bindle was interrupted by a knocking at the outer-door. Mrs. Bindleperformed a series of movements with amazing celerity. She removed andfolded her kitchen-apron, placing it swiftly in the dresser-drawer,gave a hasty glance in the looking-glass over the mantelpiece toassure herself that all was well with her personal appearance and,finally, slipped into the parlour to light the gas. She was out againin a second and, as she passed into the passage leading to theouter-door, she threw back at Bindle the one word "Remember," pregnantwith as much meaning as that uttered two and a half centuries beforein Whitehall.

  "Nippy on 'er feet is Mrs. B.," muttered Bindle admiringly, as helistened intently to the murmur of voices and the sound of footstepsin the passage. Presently the parlour-door closed and then--silence.

  Bindle fidgeted about the kitchen. He was curious as to what wastaking place in the parlour and, above all, what manner of man theprospective lodger would turn out to be. He picked up the eveningpaper, endeavouring to read what the Austrian Prime Minister thoughtof the prospects of peace, what Berlin thought of the Austrian PrimeMinister, what the Kaiser thought of the Almighty, and what theAlmighty was permitted to think of the Kaiser. But internationalpolitics and the War had lost their interest. Bindle was consciousthat he was on the eve of a crisis in his home life.

  "'Ow the injiarubber ostridge can a cove read when 'e ain't smokin'?"he muttered discontentedly as he paused to listen. He had detected amovement in the parlour.

  Yes; the door had been opened. There was again the murmur of voices,steps along the passage and, finally, the sound of the outer-doorclosing. A moment later Mrs. Bindle entered.

  Bindle looked up expectantly; but remembering that curiosity was thelast thing calculated to open Mrs. Bindle's set lips, he becameengrossed in his paper.

  Mrs. Bindle seated herself opposite to him and, smoothing her skirt,"folded 'er 'ands on 'er supper," as Bindle had once expressed it.

  "He's coming Monday," she proclaimed with the air of one announcing anevent of grave national importance.

  "Does 'e smoke?" enquired Bindle anxiously.

  "He does not," replied Mrs. Bindle with undisguised satisfaction;"but," she added, as if claiming for some hero the virtue ofself-abnegation, "he doesn't object to it--in moderation," she addedsignificantly.

  "Well, that's somethink," admitted Bindle as he proceeded to light hislong-neglected pipe. "There was pore 'ole Alf Gorley wot beer madesick; but 'e used to like to see other coves with a skinful."

  "Don't be disgusting, Bindle," snapped Mrs. Bindle, piqued that hisapparent lack of interest in the lodger gave her no opportunity ofimparting the information she was bursting to divulge.

  "Wot's disgustin'?" demanded Bindle.

  "Him, watching men making beasts of themselves," retorted Mrs. Bindle.

  "Them makin' beasts o' themselves!" Bindle exclaimed. "If you'd everseen Alf after 'alf a pint o' beer, you wouldn't 'ave said it was themwot was makin' beasts o'----"

  "Mr. Hearty will like him," interrupted Mrs. Bindle, unable longer tokeep off the subject of the lodger. Mr. Hearty had married Mrs.Bindle's sister, and had become a prosperous greengrocer.

  "'Earty like Alf! 'Old me, 'Orace!" cried Bindle.

  "I meant Mr. Gupperduck," said Mrs. Bindle with dignity.

  "Mr. Wot-a-duck!" Bindle cried, his interest too evident forconcealment.

  "Mr. Josiah Gupperduck," repeated Mrs. Bindle with unction. "That ishis name."

  Bindle whistled, a long low sound of joy and wonder. "Well, I'mdamned!" he exclaimed.

  "Don't you swear before me, Joseph Bindle," cried Mrs. Bindle angrily;"for I won't stand it."

  "Gupperduck!" repeated Bindle with obvious enjoyment. "Sounds like apatent mackintosh."

  "Oh! you may laugh," said Mrs. Bindle, drawing her lips, "you maylaugh; but he'll be company for me. He plays too." She could no longerrestrain her desire to tell all she knew about Mr. Gupperduck.

  "Is it the jew's 'arp, or the drum wot 'e plays?" enquired Bindlepresently.

  "It's neither," replied Mrs. Bindle, "it's the accordion."

  Bindle groaned. Mentally he visualised Mr. Hearty's hymn-singingSunday evenings, plus Mr. Gupperduck and his accordion.

  "Well, well!" he remarked philosophically, "I suppose we're none of usperfect."

  "He's a very good man, an' he's goin' to join our chapel," announcedMrs. Bindle with satisfaction.

  Bindle groaned again. "'Earty, an' Mrs. B., an' Ole Buttercup," hemuttered. "Joe Bindle, you'll be on the saved-bench before you knowwhere you are"; and rising he went out, much to the disappointment ofMrs. Bindle, who was prepared to talk "lodger" until bed-time.

  To Bindle the lodger was something between a convention and aninstitution. He was a being around whom a vast tradition hadaccumulated. In conjunction with the mother-in-law he was, "on thehalls," the source from which all humour flowed. His red nose,umbrella and bloater were ageless.

  He was a sower of discord in other men's houses, waxing fat on theproduce of a stranger's labour. He would as cheerfully go off with hislandlord's wife for ever, as with the unfortunate man's shirt ortrousers for a few hours, thus losing him a day's work.

  Nemesis seemed powerless to dog the footsteps of the lodger,retribution was incapable of tracking him down. He was voracious ofappetite, prolific of explanation, eternally on the brink ofaffluence, for ever in the slough of debt.

  He was a prince of parasites, a master of optimism, a model ofobtuseness, he could achieve more, and at less cost to himself, than aGypsy. He was as ancient as the hills, as genial as the sunshine, ascheerful as an expectant relative at the death-bedside of wealth. Hewas unthinkable, unforgettable, unejectable, living on all men for alltime.

  Nations rose and declined, kings came and went, emperors soared andfell; but the lodger stayed on.

  Bindle looked forward to the coming of Mr. Gupperduck with keeninterest. Since the evening of his call, Mrs. Bindle had becomeuncommunicative.

  "Wot's 'e do?" Bindle had enquired.

  "He's engaged upon the Lord's work," she had replied, and provedunamenable to all further interrogation.

  On the Monday Bindle was home from work early, only to be informedthat Mr. Gupperduck would not arrive until eight o'clock.

  "Now you just be careful what you say, Bindle," Mrs. Bindle hadadmonished him as she busied herself with innumerable saucepans uponthe stove.

  "Don't you be nervous, Mrs. B.," he reassured her, sniffing thesavoury air with keen anticipation, "there ain't nothink wrong with myconversation once I gets goin'. Wot about drink?" he demanded as heunhooked from the dresser the blue and white jug with the crimsonbutterfly just beneath the spout.

  "He's temperance," replied Mrs. B
indle with unction.

  "Well, I 'ope 'e looks it," was Bindle's comment as he went out.

  When time permitted, Bindle's method of fetching the supper-beer waswhat he described as "'alf inside and 'alf in the jug," which meantthat he spent half an hour in pleasant converse with congenial spiritsat The Yellow Ostrich.

  When he returned to Fenton Street, Mr. Gupperduck had arrived.Depositing the jug upon the table with deliberation, Bindle turned towelcome the guest.

  "Pleased to see you, Mr. Gutter----" He paused, the name hadmomentarily escaped him.

  "Gupperduck, Mr. Josiah Gupperduck," volunteered the lodger.

  "It ain't easy, is it?" said Bindle cheerfully. "Must 'ave caused youa rare lot o' trouble, a name like that."

  Mr. Gupperduck eyed him disapprovingly. He was a small, thin man, witha humourless cast of face, large round spectacles, three distinctwisps of overworked hair that failed to conceal his baldness, a shortbrown beard that seemed to stand out straight from his chin, and a rednose. His upper lip was bare, save for a three days' growth ofbristles.

  "Looks like a owl wot's been on the drink," was Bindle's mentalcomment. "You can read 'is 'ole 'istory in the end of 'is nose."

  "Been a pleasant day," remarked Bindle conversationally, quiteforgetful that it had rained continuously since early morning.

  "Pleasant!" interrogated Mr. Gupperduck.

  Bindle suddenly remembered. "For the ducks, I mean," he said; thenwith inspiration added, "not for Gupperducks."

  "Bindle!" admonished Mrs. Bindle. "You forget yourself."

  "Oh, don't mind me, Mr. G.," said Bindle; "there ain't no real 'arm inme."

  Bindle proceeded to put "an 'ead on the beer." This he did by pouringit into the glass from a distance of fully a yard and with astonishingaccuracy. Catching Mr. Gupperduck's eye, he winked.

  "Can't get an 'ead like that on lemonade," he remarked cheerfully.

  The atmosphere was constrained. Mr. Gupperduck was tired and hungry,Bindle was hungry without being tired, and Mrs. Bindle was grimlyprepared for the worst.

  "Well, 'ere's long legs to the baby!" cried Bindle, raising his glassand drinking thirstily.

  Mrs. Bindle cast a swift glance at Mr. Gupperduck, who gazed at Bindlewonderingly over the top of the spoon he was raising to his mouth.

  The meal continued in silence. Bindle was hypnotised by Mr.Gupperduck's ears. They stood out from each side of his head likesign-boards, as if determined that nothing should escape them.

  After a time Mr. Gupperduck began to show signs that the first ardourof his appetite had been appeased.

  "If it ain't a rude question, mister," began Bindle, "might I askwot's your job?"

  "I'm in the service of the Lord," replied Mr. Gupperduck in a harshtone.

  "Trade union wages?" queried Bindle with assumed innocence.

  "Bindle!" admonished Mrs. Bindle, "behave yourself."

  "I am a sower of the seed," said Mr. Gupperduck pompously and withevident self-satisfaction.

  "Well, personally myself," said Bindle, "I ain't much belief in themallotments. You spend all your time in diggin', gettin' yourself in an'ell of a mess, an' then somebody comes along an' pinches yourbloomin' vegetables."

  "I refer to the spiritual seed," said Mr. Gupperduck. "I preach theword of God, the peace that passeth all understanding."

  Bindle groaned inwardly, and silence fell once more over the board.

  "Mrs. Bindle," said Mr. Gupperduck at length, "you have given me amost excellent supper."

  Mrs. Bindle's lips became slightly visible.

  "The Lord shall feed his flock," remarked Mr. Gupperduck apropos ofnothing in particular, "and----"

  "'E keeps a few little pickin's for 'Is Gupperducks," flashed Bindle.

  "Bindle!" Mrs. Bindle glanced across at Mr. Gupperduck. The two thenentered into a conversation upon the ways of the Lord, about whichthey both seemed to possess vast stores of the most intimateinformation. From their conversation Bindle gathered that Mr.Gupperduck was a lecturer in the parks, mission-halls and the like,being connected with the Society for the Suppression of Atheism.

  "And what are the tenets of your spiritual faith, Mr. Bindle?" Mr.Gupperduck suddenly turned and addressed himself to Bindle.

  "Wot's my wot?" enquired Bindle with corrugated forehead.

  "He's a blasphemer, Mr. Gupperduck, I'm sorry to say," volunteeredMrs. Bindle.

  Mr. Gupperduck regarded Bindle as if Mrs. Bindle had said he was the"Missing Link."

  "Mr. Bindle," he said earnestly, "have you ever thought of the otherworld?"

  "Thought of the other world!" Bindle exclaimed. "If you lived withMrs. B., you wouldn't 'ave much time for thinkin' of anythink else.She's as dotty about 'eaven as an 'en over a 'shop-egg,' an' as for'Earty, that's my brother-in-law, well, 'Earty gets my goat when 'estarts about 'eaven an' angels."

  "I fear you speak lightly of serious things, Mr. Bindle," said Mr.Gupperduck harshly. "Think of when the trumpet shall soundincorruptible and----!"

  "Think o' when the all-clear bugle sounds in Fulham," respondedBindle.

  Mr. Gupperduck looked at Mrs. Bindle in horror.

  "I'm a special, you know," explained Bindle. "I got to be on thelisten for that bugle after the air-raids. My! don't they jest nipback into their little beds again, feelin' 'ow brave they've allbeen."

  Mr. Gupperduck seemed to come to the conclusion that Bindle washopeless. For the next half-hour he devoted himself to conversingwith Mrs. Bindle about "the message" he was engaged in delivering.

  "You plays, don't you?" enquired Bindle, as Mr. Gupperduck rose.

  "I am very fond of my accordion," replied Mr. Gupperduck.

  "I suppose you couldn't give us a tune?" ventured Bindle.

  "Not to-night, Mr. Bindle," said Mr. Gupperduck. "I have a lot to doto-morrow." Then, as if suddenly remembering his pose, he added,"There is the Lord's work to be done on the morrow, and His servanthath need of rest."

  Bindle stared. Mrs. Bindle regarded her lodger with admirationtinctured with awe. When Mr. Gupperduck could not call to mind anappropriate passage from the Scriptures, he invented one.

  "I'm sorry," remarked Bindle, as Mr. Gupperduck moved towards thedoor. "I wanted you to play a thing I picked up at The Granville theother night. It was a rare good song, 'If You Squeeze Me Tighter,Jimmie, I Shall Scream.' I can whistle it if----" but Mr. Gupperduckwas gone.

  Then the storm burst.

  "You're a disgrace to any respectable 'ome, Joseph Bindle, that youare," Mrs. Bindle broke out as soon as Mr. Gupperduck's bedroom doorwas heard to close.

  "Me?" enquired Bindle in obvious surprise.

  "What must he think of us?" demanded Mrs. Bindle. "You with your lewdand blasphemous talk."

  "Wot 'ave I done now?" enquired Bindle in an injured tone.

  "Talkin' about babies' legs, and--and--oh! you make me ashamed, youdo." Mrs. Bindle proceeded to bang away the supper things.

  "Steady on," admonished Bindle, "or you'll 'ave the Duck out o' bed."

  "What must 'e think of me with such an 'usband?" Mrs. Bindle's aitcheswere dropping from her under the stress of her pent-up feelings.

  "Well! speakin' for myself," said Bindle, relighting his pipe, whichhad gone out, "he most likely thinks you're an uncommon lucky woman.You see, Lizzie," Bindle continued evenly, "you're fickle, that'swot's the matter with you."

  Mrs. Bindle paused in the act of pouring water over the piled-updishes in the sink.

  "As soon as you sees another cove wot takes your fancy, you sort o'loses your taste for your own 'usband."

  Bindle seated himself at the table and spread out the evening paper.

  "First it's 'Earty, then it's Gupperduck. Now I ask you, Mrs. B., wotwould you think if I was to say we must 'ave a woman lodger? Now I askyou!"

  "That's quite different," cried Mrs. Bindle angrily. "Mr. Gupperduckis----"

  "A sort o' prayer-'og in trousers, judgin' from 'is talk," interruptedBindle. "Me an' 'im ain't goin
' to fall out, though you did give 'im aextra dose o' gravy; at the same time we ain't goin' to fall in lovewith each other. If 'e pays 'is rent an' behaves quiet like, then I'aven't nothink to say, for wot's an 'ome without a lodger; but it'sgot to be 'ands orf my missis, see!"

  "Bindle, you're a dirty-minded beast," retorted Mrs. Bindle, snappingher jaws viciously.

  "That may, or may not be," replied Bindle as he walked towards thedoor on his way to bed; "but if you an' 'im start givin' each otherthe glad-eye, then I'm 'urt in my private feelin's, an' when I'm 'urtin my private feelin's, I'm 'ot stuff," and he winked gravely at thetext on the kitchen wall containing some home truths for thetransgressor.